


Stomach

by BlueWingedAngel



Series: Pregnant!Clarke [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWingedAngel/pseuds/BlueWingedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke obviously has absolutely not time at all to get pregnant (except she does).</p><p>(Written for prompt #50. Stomach from my 100 prompts table for the 100.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stomach

“Raven?” 

Raven looked up from whatever mechanical thing she’d been doing and lifted her mask. “Yeah?” 

Clarke wandered over, leaning against the table. “I’ve been wondering about some of the conduct down here,” she said, absently playing with a piece of metal. “And... I suppose I wondered if you had any idea how long our birth control implants will last.” She smiled her way. “I don’t want any surprise babies on our hands! You’ve seen how Harper’s been going at it.” 

“We all have,” Raven said with a shudder. “But uhh... I think it gets refreshed every three months.” 

Clarke froze. “...we’ve been down here four.” 

Raven eyed her. “Something you’re worried about?” 

“What? No.” Clarke laughed lightly and shook her head and when Raven kept just eyeing her she said, “Really, I mean, when do I have time to do that anyway?” 

* * *

“Bellamy, we have a problem.” 

He looked up from cleaning his rifle and blinked because surely she’d tell him the problem without him having to drag it out of her. When she didn’t, he sighed and said, “What is it, princess?” 

“I’m late.” 

He wasn’t aware they had any kind of appointment to keep, actually. “Come again?” 

“I’m  _late_.” She moved over and sat by him. “For my  _period_.” 

Oh, he knew about this. He knew from his mother - oh, the times being late had caused her to spiral into a panic and once he’d understood  _why_  she was panicking all he could yell at her was  _we don’t have enough floor space for this, mother!_  even though he knew he’d welcome another little sibling with open arms and heart - and he knew from Octavia simply because it was always frustrating for her when her cycle wasn’t predictable.  

Except  _oh crap_. “Wait, what?” 

“I’m late,” she repeated. 

“I thought we were covered?” he said. “Implants...” 

“It runs out after three months,” she said. “I just spoke to Raven. I thought it’d be longer but...” 

“But no.” He stared at her because he was sure he was misunderstanding. “But you’re not...” 

“I think I am,” she said. 

“But you  _can’t be_ ,” he said. 

“I’m pretty sure I can be.” She eyed him. “I mean, we definitely did the... required act. Repeatedly.” 

He eyed her stomach, then eyed her face again. “...so you’re...” 

“I think so,” she said. “I’m exhibiting all the symptoms and signs or at least enough of them that it seems likely: nausea, backache, smells are a lot stronger than they should be... I can’t do a conclusive test but we’ll find out soon enough!” 

He paused. “Oh, this is really happening.” 

“Yeah.” 

He eyed his gun. 

“Do not.” 

He eyed Clarke with an expression that could only be described as  _what is wrong with you that made you think I was thinking what I think you thought I was thinking?_  

“You heard me,” she said and took his gun off him, putting it down nearby. He resisted the urge to reclaim it. 

“What do you want to do?” he said. 

“There’s not a lot of options down here,” she said. “And we do need to start breeding so that we continue into another generation...” 

He mouthed at her wordlessly. “I meant in a more  _personal sense_ , what do _you_  want to do? If we had  _all the options_ , what would you want to do?” 

“Keep it,” she said, looking at him and swallowing hard. “With you, but I’m willing to do it alone. I understand if you don’t want a kid.” 

He offered practically the same expression again. 

“What?” she said. 

“I already kind of have a kid,” he said and gestured in the direction of Octavia’s tent. “ _And_  we have at least seventy kids between us.” He gestured all around them. “A screaming baby would be a nice change.” Not that he wanted it, of course. 

“So... parents?” she said. 

“Yeah,” he grunted, trying to seem as disinterested as he possibly could. 

“Bellamy.” 

He looked up at her. “Yeah?” he said, still grunting. 

“I’m glad,” she said softly and got to her feet. “I didn’t  _want_  to do it alone.” 

He smiled at her a little, then quickly squashed it so it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, well... I’ll build a crib or something.”


End file.
